The North Wind's Bastard
by Proficient Username
Summary: His breath alone was capable of freezing liquids mid-flow. His crystal blue eyes were dulled by years of experimentation. His surroundings operated on a fixed schedule. He knew of nothing beyond those absurdly white walls in which he was confined. He was tested on by day, confined by night. His life was turned upside-down by a group of unexpected visitors. He hated them for it. AU.
1. Prologue

**A/N: Hi. Similar premise to my previous fanfiction, different direction. I'm quite tired. Hope you enjoy it.**

 **Don't own anything.**

 **Edit 1: Made some minor changes.**

* * *

 _The entire hospital was abuzz with activity. Nurses and doctors alike were flocking towards a particular delivery room where a mother had recently given birth._

 _There was nothing that was interesting about the birth itself. The entire process was quite "standard": a few minor complications, but nothing truly noteworthy. It was the results of the birth that had garnered this attention._

 _Dr. Rodriguez, the man who had monitored the delivery, had not seen - to be more accurate, felt - anything like this before during his 23 years as a medical professional. Hell, it had been so shocking that he damn near dropped the newborn the moment it was delivered._

 _Now, Dr. Rodriguez had always thought of himself as a rational man; he was a man who devoted his life to science, after all. He firmly believed that everything had a logical explanation, that was why he accepted that there would always be exceptions to these explanations. This situation, however, was absolutely-_

" _Fucking nonsense." One of the observers spoke up, "Doctor, that child looks completely fine."_

" _Alright then, would you care to hold him?" The speaker had been one of his juniors - Richard, he believed his name was - who had only been working at the hospital for a few months. "Go on, be my guest."_

 _The young man approached with an air of confidence and gestured for Rodriguez to hand the infant over. He promptly complied._

 _The moment the child was within the man's embrace, he flinched and let go of his hold. Luckily, Rodriguez had expected this and hadn't fully released his own hold on the baby._

" _What the fuck?"_

" _This, dear friend, is why I called you here." He calmly replied, "This child fails to comply with all known scientific discovery. His body temperature is close to zero degrees celsius, well beyond the threshold of 'mere' hypothermia."_

" _How is the mother taking all of this?"_

" _She passed out the moment she delivered him. She should be fine, but the issue at hand is this child. I haven't the slightest idea what to do with him. Hell, I'm unsure if he will remain living 5 seconds from now."_

 _He was met with silence. Some of the most brilliant minds that had graced the earth were completely dumbfounded._

 _After minutes of agonizing silence, a brave soul spoke up, "I-I think we should call_ _ **them**_ _, sir. Our facilities simply aren't capable of handling a situation such as this."_

 _Her suggestion was promptly met with jeering._

" _You're fucking out of your mind!"_

" _Calling_ _ **them**_ _would be condemning this child to a living hell!" Another added._

" _Well what would you smartasses propose?" The speaker defended, "Just admit it. There is NOTHING we can do for this child. We sure as hell don't have the equipment for it, and I doubt that anyone here has the medical know-how to-"_

" _No one has the know-how! This situation is dubbed 'unprecedented' for a goddamn reason! We're here so that we can find out how. It's our fucking job. As for the equipment, we can always ge-"_

" _With what funds?"_

" _I don't know, we'll figure it out later! For now, let's just-"_

" _Compose yourselves, you idiots!" Dr. Rodriguez had heard enough. "We can't do anything for this child. We have to admit it. The most we can do is keep him alive, and to do that we'll have to make the call."_

" _But can you really call that 'living', doctor?"_

" _That's besides the point. Our first and foremost priority is keeping him alive. There's no assurance that his life will be as bad as you imply anyways."_

" _With_ _ **them**_ _? There's no doubt in my mind that it'll be just as bad, if not worse."_

" _We'll put it up to a vote then." He sighed. "Those who say that we should make the call, please raise your hands."_

 _Well over half of the room had their hands raised._

" _Well, the numbers speak for themselves. Someone go and do it."_

" _And the mother?"_

" _We'll discuss it with her when she gets up."_

* * *

" _Kill the mother."_

" _E-excuse me?" Dr. Rodriguez was completely baffled, "There has to be some other way! We can't just kill someone off like that. It's illegal; i-it's immoral; it's inhumane!"_

" _Listen here, Rodriguez. Your choices are the following: kill her, or die with her." The mysterious man smirked, "And if I were you, I'd choose the former."_

 _The doctor responded without a moment of hesitance. "I will not kill her."_

 _The figure laughed heartily, "You're truly a good man. Your persistent refusal to comply is admirable, really." The atmosphere around him changed in an instant, "I hate people who don't listen."_

 _He pulled up his collar and spoke in a commanding tone, "The dumbass refused. Execute Plan B."_

" _Plan B? Wh-"_

 _A reverberating "bang" sounded throughout the night air, and the doctor's brain matter painted the wall behind him. His body collapsed forwards without pause._

" _I'll secure the child. Make sure no one leaves the hospital alive. Don't let them make any calls."_

" _Yes, sir!" The radio sounded in response._

 _The man above nudged the body with mock pity, "If only you listened…"_

 _It was reported the next morning that an alleged attack from a terrorist group had lead to the deaths of all of those within the hospital._

* * *

"Subject 06834A, please enter the testing facility."

A clack echoed through the empty room and light began filtering in. There was only a brief pause before a thin, sickly looking child entered. His gown draped off his his thin frame like a curtain. His dull eyes were filled with an innate fear as he stared down the seat in front of him.

In twelve seconds they would tell him to sit down.

"Sit down, 06834A. We will begin momentarily."

He cautiously took a seat and looked around. The room was the same as always. He was enclosed by white walls. So white, in fact, that it hurt him to look at them for too long. However, these walls were littered with small black dividers. He knew this. He knew that the walls weren't "good" walls. These walls would hurt him. But it was better to be within these walls than to resist.

The camera positioned in front of him produced a familiar whirring. They were about to begin.

In three seconds they would immobilize his arms.

"Please rest your arms on the armrests."

He placed his arms on the armrests and a "clack" sounded as his bindings sealed his arms in place.

In five seconds they would ask him his name.

"Tell me, what is your name?"

"Oh-6834A."

In two, his age.

"What is your age?"

"Ten years, two months, eleven days."

In one, his appendages.

"How many fingers do you have?"

"Ten."

In two, his last test.

"When was your last test?"

"Three days ago."

"How do you feel?"

"..."

"Good. We will now begin."

He could hear the sound of gears clicking into place as the walls surrounding him sounded with life. The white began to separate.

In six seconds, he would be feeling intense pain.


	2. Chapter 1

**A/N: I know, only 1.6k words. Pretty damn short. I've really been reaching into the barrel to find inspiration to motivate myself to continue writing this fic. It'll take a while, but I'll get back into it soon.**

 **As a side note, I'm still looking for anyone (to function as a beta) who has any grasp over verbal combat choreographing. Something beyond my own: "He punched her. She dodged".**

 **Edit 1: In order to appease my baseless fear of getting sued, I will now state that I do not own the rights to the Percy Jackson series.**

 **I do not own the rights to the Percy Jackson series.**

 **Thank you.**

 **Edit 2: You know, while I was reading this over I came across a strange thought. Am I masochistic or improvement-driven if I want to be harshly reviewed?**

 **Both maybe?**

* * *

"06834A, how are you feeling?"

All he could feel was a blinding pain.

It was as if the air around him was on fire, each breath that he took seared the back of his throat and stung his lungs.

They were really gonna do it. This time they were going to burn him alive.

"06834A, please respond."

"I think this is his limit," a woman commented.

"No. Raise the temperature."

The heat got even more intense than before. He was going to die. He tried to scream, but nothing came out. His throat was too dry. The air was too hot.

His vision was beginning to fade - his body was beginning to shut itself down.

Then, all at once, the walls began hissing and the temperature dropped drastically.

"Good job 06834A, you made it to 34 degrees Celsius. A new record."

No response.

"Go ahead and have a drink."

The panels on the floor before him separated and a table with a glass of water on it rose from below the flooring.

The cuffs that restrained his arms were released and he desperately clamored towards the liquid in front of him. He grasped the sides of the cup and began to down the entire thing in one go. A refreshing feeling washed over him as his dry throat met the salty taste of the water.

The water that was served to him always had something added to it. They told him that it was to lower the freezing point of the liquid so that it would not freeze before he ingested it. Whatever it was, it made the water taste rather salty, but that was fine because he had grown accustomed to the taste.

He tapped the bottom of the glass with his other hand, trying to get the last drops of water that were stuck to the sides of the cup.

There was still no release; his body felt as if it were burning furiously.

"Please put the cup down."

He reluctantly placed it onto the table.

"Please get back into your seat."

He sat back down.

"Good. We will now begin the second stage of the testing."

His restraints once again claimed his freedom and the wall in front of him buzzed with life. The central panel shifted to the left, revealing a window that had a glass of water similar to the one that he had just put down on the other side.

"06834A, I want you to heat up that water."

His gaze fixed itself upon the glass on the other side, and a familiar twisting feeling began within his abdominal region. Grasping onto this feeling, he pushed himself even further and began to will the liquid within the glass to heat up. Starting from his fingertips, he felt the unbearable heat leave his body.

It was not long after that the water began to boil.

"Well done 06834A, you have brought the water to a boil this time. You have made progress."

Silence.

* * *

Within the monitoring room, a woman dressed in the typical scientist garb (which consisted of a crisp white lab coat), spoke to man who wore similar attire.

"Is it not amazing, Virgil? He essentially acts as a living battery, in the truest sense of the moniker. He both stores heat energy and manipulates where that energy goes."

"Then by your definition, are not all sentient creatures living batteries?" Virgil deadpanned, "I can also store heat energy by entering a hot room, and I can generally control where that energy goes by touching an object with a lower temperature."

The other scientist sighed, clearly exasperated. "You know what I meant, Virgil. His energy capacity and control is far beyond what any other organism can accomplish."

"And yet, he's still useless."

"Virgil, he's not-"

"Yes he is," he immediately refuted, "He may be able to precisely control the movement of thermal energy, but he's only capable of controlling the energy that originates from himself. The issue here is that his storage limit is almost laughable."

"But it's still impressive," she defended.

"He passes out if he's in a warm room for 20 minutes. The miraculous thing is he is able to tolerate cooler temperatures almost indefinitely, which makes absolutely no sense."

She continued the thought for him. "Perhaps his body has a self-regulating factor that has a hard limit as to how much energy he is able to process? Or perhaps it is simply because he loses as much energy as he gains at those lower temperatures. There is no such thing as a perfect battery, you know."

"Yes, yes. I have attended the same meetings as you have, Diana. I have heard those theories already. The thing is, if either of those speculations were verified, we have on our hands a useless subject. We haven't been able to identify just what makes him so unique even after 10 years of observation and experimentation. His DNA sequence speaks of nothing special; our efforts in cloning him are evidence enough. Subject 06834B demonstrated absolutely none of the miraculous abilities that the original specimen had. We're wasting our time here."

"But he may still develop new abilities, Virgil. Perhaps he may become capable of manipulating the energy around him rather than the energy within him. Wouldn't this appease his capacity issue? Or perhaps he may never hit a 'hard limit', his storage space may be limitless." She countered.

He promptly rejected the idea. "That's ridiculous."

She raised an eyebrow. "As ridiculous as a child who can _literally_ manipulate the movement of large amounts of energy with nothing more than his bare hands?"

"He has not demonstrated any indication of developing new capabilities."

"But he _can_ ," she insisted, "Has he not been tolerating higher and higher temperatures for longer durations of time? He's clearly growing. We can't predict the future."

"But we can obtain a fairly vivid image of what it might be like with sufficient data. You're being illogical, Diana."

"You're being too logical, Virgil."

He released a heavy sigh, "You're too stubborn to listen to reason."

"Y-"

He raised a hand to stop her from speaking. "Can we at least agree to disagree? There's still the matter of the experiment that has to be concluded. We've gotten lost on that tangent for far too long."

She agreed, though her complexion indicated that she clearly was not pleased with ending it there. "Fine, but we'll be continuing this conversation during dinner, do you understand?"

He suppressed the urge to sigh again and leaned forwards towards his microphone, "06834A, are you ready for the next stage of testing?"

The boy continued to stare at the camera, unblinking.

"Very good, we will begin shortly."

* * *

The wall panel in front of him shifted back into its original position. He steeled himself for the next trial. The last one was always the most difficult to bear.

"Today we're going to-"

A woman's voice interrupted him. "There is nothing planned for the third stage today."

"Dammit Diana, you have to tell me these things beforehand."

He could practically hear her shrug.

The man on the intercom cleared his throat, " _Ahem_. 06834A, the third stage of testing has been canceled today. Go to the cafeteria."

His bindings were released and the scrawny child stood up in a complete daze. There was always a third test. That was how it always went. That was how it was supposed to go. He could not tolerate it; he could not tolerate this major break in his routine. He was infuriated, scared. He shut his mind down.

His face showed none of his internal turmoil. From the outside, it merely appeared as if he stood up and adamantly refused to move.

"06834A, report to the cafeteria. This is not a request."

He moved robotically out of the room and into the dimly lit corridor. The door behind him whirred shut. Two men that flanked both sides of the door closed in on him and motioned for him to continue moving. After a brief pause, he continued to the cafeteria. It was the first room after the second left.

He entered an absurdly bright room and seated himself at the only table. The two guards parked themselves at the entrance. His eyes never moved from the dull gray wall in front of him.

A gruff voice sounded from behind him, "Have a nice lunch, Miss Thompson."

"Thank you. Is your family doing well, Clark?"

"They're doing fine Miss, but thank you for your concern."

She addressed the other guard, "How about you David?"

"My family is fine as well, Miss," he responded.

She approached his table, "You did well during testing today Mister A."

He did not respond.

With a look of genuine concern, she asked him, "Hey, A, is something wrong?"

Again, no response.

She sat herself next to him and began rubbing his back in small circles, an attempt to soothe him, he assumed. Regardless of what it was, it felt nice. She could always tell when something was agitating him. She quietly whispered words of support into his ear.

After a few minutes, he felt himself calming down. He looked to his right where she was sitting. She was not wearing the lab coat that she always wore around the facility, exposing her tight long-sleeved green turtle neck that perfectly complimented her well-proportioned figure. Her hair was long and black. The shine it emitted had an almost entrancing effect. Her identification tag was located just under her left collarbone. It read: "Diana Thompson, Research Director."

* * *

 **A/N: Maybe a few out-of-context one-liners you could pull from this. They may not be permanent. I'm known to go through several edits after publishing the chapter.**

 **Still raw and unedited - wanted to get this out there as soon as possible.**


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